


looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue

by lackingsoy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Baltimore, Choking, Gen, M/M, Suicide attempt (misinterpreted tho), Vomiting, obligatory "im straight up not having a good time"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackingsoy/pseuds/lackingsoy
Summary: It's funny because this isn't his, the roof or small mercies or private moments between joints, edging closer and closer to damnation or salvation or redemption. None of it is. Never can be, no matter his wants or his fears or his shared histories with them.
Relationships: Kevin Day & Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day & Neil Josten, Kevin Day/Neil Josten, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue

**Author's Note:**

> listened to one (1) jaymes young song

In the end, it's Neil who approaches him.

He's out on the roof, peering into the skyline, a leg draped over the edge, fixing the bottle’s opening to his lips every now and then. He hears the roof's door jangle open and closed.

"Can I sit?" Neil asks, voice quiet. Kevin casts a glance at him, only to find him standing a measured meter away. Something about that tickles something in him. It's funny. 

It's funny because this isn't his, the roof or small mercies or private moments between joints, edging closer and closer to damnation or salvation or redemption. None of it is. Never can be, no matter his wants or his fears or his shared histories with them. 

So Neil asking Kevin if he can assume his place in what clearly belongs to him is laughable.

Instead of answering, Kevin takes a long swig from his vodka. It pours down the back of his throat with vile vehemence. Neil perches a distance away and watches him without speaking.

“Is that your third bottle?” Neil asks, eventually. Kevin works the alcohol around his mouth, letting it warm on his tongue so he doesn’t have to reply. When he finally swallows, the vodka goes down with a fight.

“No,” his voice is so ruined. He doesn’t know how he’ll do that interview with Kathy. “Fifth.”

Neil is silent for two minutes. “You should stop.”

Kevin tips his head back and upends the last of the alcohol into his mouth. He looks at Neil through the muddied glass. “You were saying.”

Neil’s eyes are fixed stubbornly on Kevin’s face. His wounds have scabbed over, puckered and pink. It makes the petty little mainstay in Kevin want to get up in his fucked up face and show him what it means to be put down and belittled and thrown away without a second thought. 

But what would that even do? He’s going to get his Number Two removed, he’s going to cut Riko from his skin, he’s going to cleave Andrew from his heart, he’s going to be free from every heavy hand that has ever wronged him.

Nothing will stand between him and the Court.

No one will break him again. He will make himself untouchable.

He swears this on his sixth bottle, and swerves up to get it. He will have to make it down the stairs, stumble through the hallway, unlock the door to Nicky’s dorm room, pry open the fridge, get a grip on the bottle's neck.

And then. Neil’s arm press against his chest, a firm barrier, and Kevin feels the vertigo like a slap to the face.

“Kevin. Hear me out.”

“I know, it's fine. Okay? Neil _._ ” The words meld with the heat in his head, singing over his ears, searing up from the place Neil’s touching him. It’s all so--futile. Fucked up. Too deep and done away with to drag back up again. “Our deal is over. Finished in Baltimore. You have nothing to worry about. We were never fucking, Neil. We were never together. We were never,”

 _Kind_ , but the mere thought of Andrew, staring at him with nothing in his eyes, makes Kevin turn his body an entire 180 degrees towards the edge of the roof and hurtle onto the rims of it like a dying man.

Neil gives a shout, hand fisting in the back of Kevin’s hoodie, yanking him back from the edge just as bile works its acidic way out of Kevin’s mouth.

He vomits all over the concrete. His body convulses like he’s trying to regurgitate all the damage that came violently into him in unknown quantities. He tastes it all on his tongue: the blood and the bile and the bullshit.

Neil still has him by the ends of his hoodie by the time he's done heaving up his insides. Kevin tries to shake him off, but he is weak with his addictions and Neil is strong with his dead father and Andrew on his side. 

“Let me go,” he rasps. That just makes Neil tighten his grip.

“If it means losing you, then no.”

The sentiment sounds so real Kevin can smash the memory of Baltimore against it and it still would not break. “If I jumped, would you mourn me?" 

Neil stares at him, momentarily blank-faced. "You won't," he says.

"Even if I did," Kevin tells him. "It wouldn't make a speck of difference."

Neil's hand clenches. "Don't say that," he said. 

Kevin tries shaking him off again. "Whatever. Get your hands off me, I'm leaving."

"I need to tell you something important." Neil holds on, stupidly. "Kevin. Please."

Kevin is dead on his feet with nothing to hold him down; has been for a couple of months now. Curious how absolutely untethered and caved-in a guy can feel at the same time. "Doesn't your boyfriend hate that word?"

Neil looks at him steadily. "Kevin. Listen to me."

"I did," Kevin tells him, head tilting up to the sky. It's far too bright, far too blue. Should be colder. Darker. Rolling thunder and shimmering wintry rain. "I gave you my full attention, and that gave you Andrew's, and here we are. Can't that be enough, Neil? Are you done taking things from me? Can't you just leave me alone?"

That must land somewhere tender because Neil steps back, looking gutted. "Am I done?" he repeats, a small rawed-out whisper. Kevin gives him a proper laugh for that. 

"I'm not sober enough to keep my mouth shut right now, and I'm still not drunk enough to be delusional. But I can repeat myself fine: what. More. Do. You. Want?" Kevin makes a wild swing at the sky, the campus, the dissipating illusion of a home, the general shitshow of his life.

He turns on Neil, lips locked between a sneer and a snarl: "Why can't you just listen to me for once and back the fuck off?" 

Neil stares at him, wordless and still, flickers of shock and guilt and anger taking turns warring for dominance in his face. He opens his mouth, teeth showing, and seems to think better of it, sealing his lips back together. 

"Okay," Neil finally grits out. He starts to back away. "Fine." Then turns on his heel and leaves the way he came: futilely and without a sound.


End file.
